Paved with Good Intentions
by gladsomemind
Summary: An underage applicant to the FBI gets over the first hurdle.  How it all progresses from there.  AU Reid because I don't like the shrinking violet.
1. Chapter 1

**OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Criminal Minds, or any of its associated characters, plots, scripts or episodes

Should also mention, in case it is not immediately obvious to all that I know nothing about FBI Recruitment methods!

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><p><strong>Paved With Good Intentions<strong>

It was a thankless task. Every year the FBI received thousands of applications from people who just wouldn't make the cut. In among these were the obvious stars, law enforcement professionals with a string of commendations and the right sort of academic background, stars were easy to pull. Harder were the potentially good agents, those without the law background but with the right foundations to build a technical specialist. To find these pieces of gold you had to pan through a lot of dirt.

Sorting applications really was a polite form of punishment detail. HR specialist David Leary knew that hitting on the new wife of one of the BAU agents hadn't been a good idea but the booze had been flowing and she was a cute little blonde with a tight ass and what was a sexually frustrated man to do? It wasn't like he'd done anything more than pass a couple of compliments at the bitch. Why she had to complain to her husband, who complained to his boss who straight away assigned him this shitty job (it wasn't even his turn!) he'd never know.

Another application: Small town cop, high school education and not even the sort of grades that would set you up for a college degree. That was one for the polite 'hell no' pile.

This was probably the worst thing about this job. You didn't just have to winnow out the good candidates from the bad, you had to sort the rejects into 'after careful consideration' and 'not at the moment with your skill set'. Cops always fell into the latter category as their co-operation might be needed by the agency at some point in the future. This only encouraged them to try again. How hard were the minimum entry requirements to follow though? What part of 'four year college degree' was so hard to understand?

Next!

Oh boy. Well this one had a college degree alright. Didn't take him four years to get but the doctorate in mathematics might have taken up some of his time. Work experience listed included book keeping while studying at UNLV. Nothing while at Cal Tech, then again he was probably on a full academic ride. Only thing missing from the application was the date of birth.

What the hell, he'd found a potential diamond. White collar would love him. There was an interview round set up for California next month, he could come along to that and complete his date of birth. Hopefully blind the interview panel with science and earn Davy boy here a nice gold star.

Next: An idiot with such bad handwriting that the name could barely be made out. Reject!

* * *

><p>"Spencer's pants!" The call was answered on the sixth ring by some breathy female, clearly <em>not<em> the male applicant.

"This is Agent David Leary of the FBI." That was normally enough to throw most civilians off, at least a little. "I'm calling to speak to Doctor Reid. Is he available?"

"Spencer!" The shout down the phone had him pulling the receiver away from his ear with a jolt. "Phone! He's in the shower, won't be a minute. What did he do?" The girl didn't seem to have two brain cells to rub together. It was a strange experience, most people shut down when they talked to Federal Agents. College students especially, suddenly feeling guilty about that small amount of pot they inevitably had stashed away. They didn't normally want to chat.

The applicant probably wasn't going to like the suggestion that fooling around with a college student ten years his junior was not going to look good to the Bureau. Not unless he married his little bimbo.

"He applied to the FBI. I just have a couple of questions before we can take it any further, nothing to worry about." It never paid to upset the 'family' any more than it did to upset other LEOs.

"You want to take my math tutor away? Turn him into a super cop? What a waste! Oh hey baby, phone call for you. It's the Feds, want to put something on?" The last was quieter as if she was handing the phone over but still came across perfectly clear.

This all gave him an absolutely hideous mental picture. Bearded, flabby, thirty-something standing there naked in front of a blonde cheerleader who needed to suck some cock to pass her courses. He might be a lucky devil but it was clearly a mistake even pursuing this applicant, only politeness had him staying on the end of the line.

"Spencer Reid." The voice on the other end was younger than he expected, even just giving his name. He was confident though as if this call had just been a matter of time, a foregone conclusion. "How can I help?"

"Doctor Reid, my name is David Leary. I work in the department that deals with applicants to the FBI." A murmur of understanding came down the line. "There was an omission on your form that we need to clear up before we take it further. You didn't complete your date of birth." A very minor omission on an otherwise perfect academic applicant's form.

A laugh came down the line. "I didn't forget to fill it in. I deliberately left it off. Experience has taught me that age is irrelevant in all situations except one. You'd be amazed at how intransigent the DMV can be. The reason I left it off is because I am twenty one."

The age hung in the air between them. He sat there for a moment before asking the obvious question. "Twenty one? You have a PhD and you are twenty one?"

"I have three PhDs actually but yes twenty one. Graduated high school at twelve, first undergrad degree by fifteen, first doctorate by seventeen. As I say age limits tend to be things that happen to other people."

"Apart from the DMV?"

"You know they just wouldn't give me a licence. No matter how many times I tried to talk them into it."

David laughed, he liked this kid. Nowhere near as hard to talk to as some of the super geeks you ran into at Quantico. Of course he would need to get a dispensation signed off before he could promise anything. However the argument could be made that the restriction itself was ageist. That it was the education which was more important, education that Doctor Reid had in spades. Decision made there was only one thing left to do.

"I still need your DOB before I can process your application to the interview stage."

"In that case it's..."

* * *

><p>It took some finagling to get to be the HR rep for this interview panel, the ones to California somehow attracting more volunteers than the ones to Kansas. Oddly enough the panels with the most volunteers were the ones in Hawaii. David's biggest weapon in this particular fight was his twenty one year old 'exception'. He had argued that as he was the one pushing for the opportunity he should be the one to do the assessment in person.<p>

For the applicants it was going to be a battery of tests to gauge their relative strengths and weaknesses, followed by the interview panel from hell. If they passed all that they got to join an intake at the academy where the instructors tried to break their spirits and crush their souls before turning them lose on an unsuspecting criminal world.

And it was raining.

He'd arranged to meet Doctor Reid half an hour early to see if the young man matched his mental image of the stereotypical geek.

He didn't.

The man in front of him wasn't a shrinking violet hiding behind glasses and smelly t-shirts. This was a well dressed, designer suited, confident young man. Secure in his capabilities. The panel were going to hate him.

David knew that, with the best will in the world, the men and women who sat on these things were experienced agents. Who all came with a bucket load of prejudices they would never admit to. A twenty one year old, triple doctorate holding, certifiable genius was bad enough but add style and confidence to that and they would tear him down just to show that they were 'superior'. The only thing the kid didn't exude was 'alpha', although he had no doubt that Doctor Reid would be able to step into that role if it was required.

How the hell did you tell someone like that, that if they wanted to achieve their dream, they had to become something less?

"Doctor Reid?" David had to at least make the attempt.

"Spencer, please. Doctor Reid is my mother." The smile bestowed on him was enough to make David want to move mountains for him. This was going to be so bad.

"Your mother is also a Doctor?" It did explain some of the academic overachievement.

"English literature. Well literature in general. Bed time stories when I was little tended to be a bit weird but hey when you are three you don't know the difference."

David shook his head. They were getting off topic and there wasn't a lot of time. "Look, I don't know how to tell you this." He took a breath. "For you to get into the academy _now _you need to get the unanimous approval of the panel. They all need to sign off on the dispensation. There are stronger, physically stronger, candidates than you." That was certainly true. His physique was more long distance runner than anything approaching football player. "You have to get them to accept you on your academic merits without making them feel inferior."

Doctor Reid, Spencer, just looked at him unblinking. After an increasingly uncomfortable silence reached the point that David was ready to speak just to fill it, he finally spoke. "Tell me about the panel. Who are the people on it and what will their reactions be?" He asked as if this was a theoretical problem to be outlined then solved. Who knew? Maybe it would work.

"There are three agents on the panel. Agent Carter joined before the restriction on the college degree was brought in. He's old school, doesn't hold with fancy techniques like profiling."

"Don't mention having read David Rossi's book then?" This kid had clearly done a fair amount of prep for this session if he'd dug up that thing up from three years ago.

"Probably best to keep that to yourself, yes. Desk bound now, he is getting better at understanding the needs of having good people in the analyst roles."

Spencer held up a hand. "I'm not looking to join the FBI to sit in an office all day. I want to be a field agent. If I wanted to be an analyst I'd take up one of the monthly offers I get from the NSA. They pay better."

Field agent was going to be a harder sell; competition for those places was tougher. Even with the NSA offer looming large that wasn't a promise he could make. "Can we work on getting you in first?" A nod came in agreement. "When you are in you will go through the standard training in procedure, firearms and the like."

"I do know how to shoot you know. Both on a range and hunting. Don't think it will be too much of a problem."

David snapped. He had to get this guy in now while he still wanted it. He had a horrible thought of what he could do if he decided to use his powers for evil instead of good! "You need to downplay that. You need to downplay everything apart from the academic. If you want to join the FBI now rather than in two years time you have to let this panel have something to feel superior about. If Carter, or god forbid Conran, think that you think that you are better than them then they will eviscerate you just so they can sleep at night." He sucked in a breath.

"Is there any way you could play to the stereotype of a genius? More geek, less metro-sexual?" This conversation would have him thrown out of the HR fraternity if it was overheard but he wanted to do his best by this candidate.

What was surprising was the transformation going on in the chair opposite. Somehow this twenty year old was morphing into the perfect image. The suit, which moments ago had looked tailored to fit, was now looking like he'd borrowed it from a much bigger friend. Now, instead of the debonair man about town, there was a nervous college graduate, terrified at the prospect of the biggest interview of his life. For a second he flickered back to the earlier persona when he asked with a grin, "that more like it?"

"It's certainly more what they are expecting that's for certain. Time up, both men stood and made their way over to the door.

"I have faced down interview panels before you know. First college interview when I was eleven. Now that was a frightening day. This, well this is the same old same old."

"Best of luck anyway. It's going to be a fun day for all concerned."

They parted company at the door. Spencer to go and join the other potential recruits, David to go prepare for the first test.

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><p>AN: Points for spotting the Dharma and Greg quote (although it is pretty easy!)<p>

If you've got this far please let me know what you think. Are you interested in seeing any more? Ready to consign this to the file 'I want that period of my life back'? Hell at this point you can even pick a pairing (as long as it isn't Reid/Gideon because ewww no) or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Criminal Minds, or any of its associated characters, plots, scripts or episodes. Nor do I own Numb3rs, etc. etc.

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><p>The problem with acting a part to nail an interview was that you had to keep it up when you got the job. That he lacked the real world experience of some of the other recruits Spencer couldn't deny. Some of these people had worked in serious crimes units, had seen things that were thankfully well outside his sphere of experience. The bigger problem was the things he couldn't be seen doing.<p>

Assumptions were made on the first day. The general consensus being that Spencer was going to be unfit, unable to shoot and good for nothing but forensic accounting. Being a bad shot was easy enough. He just had to use his technical skills to hit a different part of the paper target than he normally would. The athleticism was harder.

Not being able to scale a wall didn't need to be faked. This wasn't something he had ever needed to be able to do. Walls had gates and doors. These could be opened and walked through without all the mad scrabbling. No, the problem was the running between the stupid walls.

High School was hell for Spencer. Even if he'd been destined to be the best football player in the world he wasn't going to be able to compete with people when they were six years older than him. Not at the age of eleven or twelve. Unfortunately the state of Nevada wasn't prepared to let him out of Phys Ed just because he was half the size of his classmates. Thankfully the teacher had noticed that putting him in the game was the easiest way to get him killed. So Spencer had been sent to run laps. Week after week, hour after hour running in circles, he'd kept it up through all the years of college and ran marathons when they were held at a sensible distance.

Now he had to pretend like running a mile was enough to bring on a serious asthma attack and was way beyond his abilities. It was driving him mad.

What he wanted to do was run. Drive out the fidgets by pounding some miles out, instead he was stuck in a lecture theatre waiting for another interminable lecture to start. Having read David Rossi's book, indeed having met the man himself, this should be one of the lectures he'd enjoy. Some guy from the BAU was coming in to talk to them about profiling. His fellow recruits were falling over each other to get the best spots.

Honestly though, if he couldn't be out running he'd rather be asleep! There was a test at the end of this lecture though; a take-home to evaluate whether any of them had the potential to join the BAU at some point in the future. It was already known that competition for any spot in the unit was fierce. These were the people who hunted serial killers for a living. High profile, high stress and not really the area he wanted to go into.

Spencer wanted the Las Vegas field office.

The problem was he couldn't say _why_ he wanted Vegas. He didn't want to announce to these people that he wanted to be close to his mother, it wasn't like a mentally ill parent was something you wanted to shout about. There was also his other family, in some ways he wanted to announce their existence even less.

The things he knew, the things he had experienced would make him an asset to the Nevada unit. He just needed to get through the next few weeks and get his arguments lined up and he'd be on his way. The only way to get through the intervening time was to take it one day at a time, one session at a time. Starting with this one on profiling.

Maybe he could escape for a run later while everyone else was ploughing through the copious amounts of reading materials for this unit.

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><p>Spencer entered the room and took the indicated chair.<p>

The man opposite him was the agent from the profiling lecture. If he thought giving Spencer the silent treatment was going to be effective he was going to be disappointed. Spencer knew how to keep quiet. High School had taught him that lesson.

"What are your plans?" Of course the silent treatment worked in both directions. Someone had to crack or they would be sat here for hours.

"Right now? Get through the course." That was a safe enough answer, his grades for the non-academics were being held at a borderline fail after all.

"Looking at these interim marks it seems to be in doubt, unless you get some dispensations. However, that isn't what I'm talking about. Assuming you do graduate from the course what are your career plans? Where do you see your career in the Bureau taking you?"

Spencer paused for a moment; there was no reason not to give the prepared answer he had for the upcoming Board. "I'd like to be assigned to the Las Vegas field office. It would be good to have the opportunity to go home and I have a local support structure for outside work."

"There's a lot of white collar work done out of that office." Like Spencer didn't already know that. "That's a lot of paperwork. Is that what you want to be doing?"

"I read quickly."

The older man looked down at the paperwork in front of him. "How fast? Six, seven hundred words a minute?"

This wasn't information that appeared in his file. "A little faster than that." An eyebrow was raised in inquiry. "Depends on the topic of course but somewhere around a couple of thousand."

"Couple?"

This was going to get him in trouble with the other trainees if it got out but the chances of getting an outright lie, rather than a deflection, past a trained profiler, without having time to prepare his answers, was going to be slim. "Twenty." Okay so he was a freak who could read quickly with perfect retention.

"IQ?"

"Top five percent." That look again. "Top point one." As shown by the stupid aptitude tests he'd done on the selection panel day, which would be in his personnel file. "What's this about? Assignments aren't decided for another six weeks. Why are we meeting?" He only just managed to keep the meek persona in place. This meeting had interrupted his one afternoon a week off and he'd made plans with a couple of naval intelligence guys to join them in a run of _their_ course.

"I'm here to offer you a position, if you pass. Unfortunately for you it's one that is only done from Virginia.

Spencer just stared at him.

"We have an opening on my BAU team. I'd like to offer it to you."

"Why?" It wasn't an unreasonable question. It was well known among the cadets that the BAU was an assignment that only went to experienced agents. They were the best of the best and competition was fierce. This shouldn't be a conversation taking place with an underage cadet with only theoretical experience in profiling techniques; and that minor given the preliminary lecture had only been the week before.

"You submitted the assignment and it was pulled out of the pile by one of the members of my team who was helping me out by going through some. You included a geographical profile as part of your report."

"The equations were part of the reading material." How could using something that was provided to everyone have any impact on this? "I didn't have a Cray handy so I adjusted Doctor Eppes source code to enable me to do a rougher model but one that could be done by hand. Faster, if not as elegant or accurate." Plus he quite liked the colouring even if he wasn't going to add that.

"The profile you provided might have helped catch the unsub a victim earlier. That's what I need on my team."

"I have no field experience." Just a small understatement.

"Profilers need to be able to build a profile. That will get you the experience you lack. We can work on what you don't have while utilising what you do. And if it doesn't work out I will personally see to it that you get the Las Vegas assignment, as long as there is an opening. And my second has agreed to help you make your firearms qualification." He looked at Spencer over his glasses. "So what do you say, Doctor Reid?"

* * *

><p>"What did you tell him?" Spencer needed to talk to someone about his unexpected job offer and his only option was Leary the HR guy. Unfortunately he looked to be more thrown by the offer than Spencer was.<p>

"I asked for some time to think about it. I have until tonight to get back to him."

"You asked for time to think about it!" That was less a statement and more of a squeak. As if aware of quite how he sounded he visibly collected himself before continuing.

"The BAU is a veritable old boys' network, you have to have _years_ of experience. Jason Gideon is one of the founders of the unit. If he wants you then you have an opportunity that seasoned agents would give their back teeth for. Whether you want a life hunting down fraudsters or serial killers only you can decide. If nothing else it would be a field agent role. You did say that you wanted that."

"Is it though?" I didn't join the FBI just to run numbers so the team doesn't have to go cap in hand to LA, or actually learn to enter the parameters into a computer, every time they want a geographical profile. I don't want to be stuck in an office the entire time and I'm afraid that taking this job is setting myself up for just that."

David just shook his head before repeating, "_only_ you can make that decision. It is an opportunity that will probably never come up again so be sure of what you want before you commit yourself. I mean, why did you apply to the FBI anyway? You could have done whatever you wanted, including working for the NSA. And I don't mean the reasons you put on your application."

"There were a couple of reasons. A friend put the idea into my head, so we actually joined together. He dropped out the first week but we did apply at the same time." Spencer paused, this wasn't something he'd discussed with Ethan, although the other man had been there to help pick up the pieces. "And I had a bad experience once, got attacked one night. The police weren't a lot of help and I decided then that I wanted to ensure this didn't happen to anyone else.

"Vegas Police wasn't where I wanted to be, hence the FBI." He stopped, he was over the physical effects and the psychological ones would never go away. Anyway, he had a therapist if he needed to talk these things out.

"If that's what you want to do then the BAU is probably a good place to be. These are the guys that bring down the serials, even if they don't have a sense of humour about people talking to their wives." Spencer just looked at him. "Long story never mind."


	3. Chapter 3

"Jason, you can't be serious? I think you need to be reminded that it isn't spring. April Fool's was months ago."

Gideon looked across the desk at his second in command. Hotch looked incensed at the suggestion he help out a cadet. "You were the one who brought his essay to my attention. You were the one who suggested he would be a good addition to the team."

"I didn't say him. I said someone _like_ him. He's a trainee. No new agent has ever been assigned to the BAU. It's always been understood that it takes a seasoned agent. "He took a breath. "What is this guy's background anyway? Law enforcement somewhere?"

"Graduate recruitee." Gideon was looking forward to dropping the age bombshell on his friend. It possibly didn't reflect well on him but he was amused at that thought of giving the other man an aneurism. "Hence the need to give him some additional time on the range with an actual marksman. If anyone can get him past the firearms qualification it's you."

Hotch wasn't quite able to hide the flush of pride at the unexpected flattery. Gideon knew that he didn't praise the team enough for the work they did and hoped the other man wouldn't make the same mistakes when he moved on to head up his own team. He also knew that Hotch was the best chance he had to get the young doctor through the academy; there were only so many byes they could apply and still be able to get insurance coverage for him to be in the field.

The chance to have a team member who could do even an approximation of the geographical profiles created by the LA office was worth a little bit of inconvenience to the rest of the team. He might even ask Morgan to give him some extra help with hand to hand.

"That might be the case but it's a lot of pressure to put on a new agent. Wouldn't it be better to snag him after his first assignment is completed?"

"We have an opening now. If he isn't going to cut it in a high pressure unit then it's better to find out early. We don't want to lose him to White Collar, and make no mistake those sharks are circling. They are fielding some of their best to get him through. We need to do no less."

"I thought White Collar were chasing some wunderkind." Hotch paused and Gideon watched as the realisation dawned. "You mean to tell me you want to bring a _child_ into the unit!"

"Doctor Reid is twenty-one, he's hardly a..."

"A _child_ Gideon. You want to subject someone who should be finishing up their degree and learning their alcohol limits to a job that involves exposure to the worst humanity has to offer! Have you lost your mind?"

"Hotch, that this is someone who has never been out of school I can't deny. But we have an opportunity here to mould the perfect BAU agent. If we let White Collar get their claws into him we may never get him out. This is someone who wants to be a field agent, talk to him for five minutes and you can work that out. They can give him that but we are better." Gideon met the other man's eyes. "So you'll go and give him some pointers?

Hotch sighed in resignation before answering with a nod.

* * *

><p>"Here again?" The agent in charge of the range came over to talk to Spencer. That Spencer didn't seem able to make the passing score on <em>any<em> of his attempts had him assigned extra practice time. This normally suited him quite well as he could squeeze off a couple of magazines in the end booth then sit down for a while and catch up on some technical reading.

Unfortunately, today he had been given strict instructions to be here an hour early to prepare ten targets before meeting Agent Hotchner for some, unasked for, additional training.

"Extra practice." No need to take it out on the poor guy just doing his job.

"Is there some reason you are deliberately failing?" Spencer froze at the question, shocked that someone had called his bluff. "I'm not going to say anything, just curious."

Even with his memory the truth was always easiest, as there were no lies to remember. "A piece of advice I was given at selection."

The look he was given invited him to expand on the statement and Spencer was sick to death of being bad at things he was more than capable of doing. "I tend to outstrip some of the students on the academic side so it's easier all round to let them win here."

The agent in charge didn't look convinced at the logic. "How did you know?" Spencer could learn from his mistakes and avoid making them again.

The man looked him straight in the eye and gave a two word answer. "Seventy eight."

Spencer looked down and cursed his own stupidity.

"Not clustered around seventy eight. Seventy eight. If you can do that time and again then there is no reason you couldn't get the required eighty." He held out a post-it note. "Anyway I have a message for you from SSA Hotchner. He's been called away on a case and so won't be able to make it.

Spencer was relieved. It was one thing to deliberately fail when all that was wasted was his time and some ammunition, it was different to be taking up the free time of an active agent.

"So, as you don't have to be bad for him, what do you say to actually doing your best on the range for a change? Promise I won't tell anyone."

Spencer smiled. "Sounds good to me." He paused. "I do want to say, though, that I never asked for extra help. If the other two remedial shooters had managed to hit a passing score then I would have followed suit."

The agent laughed. "I'm not the one you need to explain that to; although I would appreciate it if you managed to improve by three points anyway. So, think you can make a headshot now that you aren't hiding?"

"I can probably manage that." He picked up the box of bullets from the counter. "So, any suggestions on the best way to get out of extra lessons with an agent?"

"Other than eighty one? None at all."

* * *

><p>Derek Morgan looked over the batch of recruits and pondered how he had let himself get talked into doing this. He didn't know who was most to blame; Gideon for the entire cockamamie scheme or Hotch for suggesting he might like a little 'grapple time' with the side door unit recruit. He knew that Hotch had been talked into some extra training, and considering he was going to be risking his neck to the new guy's skills it was only fair that he had a chance to do some evaluating of his own. Good idea really but Morgan preferred getting to know this kid over a beer first. Then again he was barely legal to drink.<p>

The class was the usual sort of mix. The greater proportion in for extra training were women. Biology generally gave men the advantage physically and so they would come in for extra time just to give themselves whatever edge they could get through greater skills. That's what Hotch should have bribed him with.

The boy wonder was nowhere to be seen though. The men in the room were clustered together practicing but all of them were late twenties or early thirties. The women were also clustered together around a trainee that was spending more time on their back than on their feet. Oh well, if Gideon's project couldn't be bothered to put in an appearance he might as well help those who cared.

He winced as the trainee hit the mat again. There were some judo throws that might help and it would be worthwhile for all of these cadets to have an idea of some of the martial arts options open to them. They wouldn't become experts overnight but it might give them a place to start looking for lessons.

The group were laughing at their fallen comrade, who had managed to push herself up onto her hands and knees and flip her hair back. Morgan took the opportunity to take in the presented ass, tight even though covered with FBI sweats. She said something he didn't quite catch as she sat back on her heels but moved up to offer a hand up as he took in the rest of the group.

"Cadets." He nodded to the circle as he held out a hand to help the fallen back to her feet. He knew that treating the group as sexless now was more likely to get them to prove him wrong later. He didn't quite manage to get a good look at the woman he helped up before she pulled away and moved to grab her water bottle. However, there was time enough to check out the relative merits of all the group as he helped them prep for their assessment.

"I'm Agent Morgan, I work out of the Quantico office and have agreed with Agent Quinn," he nodded towards the agent responsible for training wave after wave of cadet in unarmed combat, "to help out this evening." No need to mention that part of the arrangement was that he had to help out at the next ten intakes as well; Agent Quinn wasn't going to let an offer like this apply only to one candidate. He made eye contact with a couple of the more assertive women in the circle. "We'll look at some of the tricks you can use to make your opponents strengths work against them. So, who wants to be first to try to take me down?"

All eyes in the circle moved to focus on the same point behind him. "Oh come on, surely it's someone else's turn?" The voice was male and when Derek turned he was faced with the realisation that the ass he'd checked out earlier belonged to a man with cheekbones his sisters would kill for and a pout that could get him the world on a plate. However he stepped forward anyway and looked at Derek before asking in total resignation, "alright. What do I have to do?"


	4. Transition

"Hey, it's me."

"I know cell phones tell you who is calling, I'm not an idiot, it just seems rude to start in on the conversation without some sort of greeting."

"Yes it does!"

"Whatever, I've got some news."

"No I don't have cancer! What sort of person goes from 'I have news' to 'I am about to drop dead'?"

"Okay, okay. I know. I should call more often. This place is insane, I'm not kidding you. They have you running all over the place at all hours of the day and night then shut you up into dark lecture theatres to drone on at you for hours about corporate tax evasion. I'm lucky if I can stumble back to my room without bouncing into things as I'm sleepwalking."

"The assignment board interviews are tomorrow."

"Everyone's panicking."

"That's the thing. I've made the decision."

"Do you hate me for not coming back to Vegas?"

"I'd run into someone I know."

"No. I'd run into someone who knew me."

"It _would_ be hard to explain."

"Profiling. I'm going to join the soft sciences and become a psychologist."

"I know it's going to be hard to come out of the pure sciences into the vagaries of human emotion."

"I'm not that bad at reading people. I was good enough to pay my tuition fees. And what do you think poker's all about if not reading the other players."

"Yes I will be reading mass murdering fuckheads rather than card sharps."

"You haven't seen the people I will be working with!"

"Well that's actually the problem. I have met them."

"One of them came to help me pass my firearms qualification."

"Oh it was great fun. We spent an hour with him correcting my stance."

"I haven't been using my stance. I've been mimicking Jamie's."

"That was kind of the point. I was trying to be bad. It kept his mind off the fact that I was putting the bullet where I wanted to rather than where he wanted me to hit."

"I suggest you don't tell him so I can come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"He loves me more than you anyway."

"So anyway, shooter guy is an ex-prosecutor. I feel like confessing all every time he shows up. He just pushes all those buttons, you know?"

"The boss is this old guy who just needs to get..."

"Seriously."

"So not my type."

"Could trip and fall... Well the last of them is cute in an overblown jock sort of way. He showed up at the remedial hand to hand class. I got to be his punching bag for the evening as he flexed his muscles for the ladies."

"Some issue there. Barely gave me a once over. Although someone did say that he spent five minutes checking out my ass."

"That's all I've met. It's a small team."

"There will be travel involved in the job, yes."

"I can assure you that Bureau policy is that everyone gets their own room at the inn."

"I think they're afraid that if we had to share rooms on top of working together all day someone would snap and then we'd be chasing them. Same theory applies to spouses working together, generally a bad idea."

"The problem I've got is I don't know how to come clean about the ruse to get me into the program. It's not like I want to get Dave in trouble."

"HR guy."

"Ethan quit."

"First day."

"Because, if I had, you would have tried to talk _me_ into quitting."

"I've held it together okay. Ethan picked out a couple of fellow recruits the first morning and let them in on the plan; without consulting with me first of course!"

"I think he knew when we were driving up the day before that he wasn't staying."

"Don't know. He didn't say, just packed up and left me with a note."

"'Not for me. Knock em dead.'"

"Got a postcard from New Orleans, I'll look him up and ask the next time I'm in Louisiana."

"The girls think it's funny. Want to take me shopping for a new, geek un-chic, wardrobe."

"They've already been told that there's no way I'm wearing R&D too short trousers. I'm going to be a psychologist not a researcher. Hey, think I should go for another Doctorate?"

"I'd come up with something. Titles at this point are more of a working theme than the final product."

"Because what if you find something completely different? Got to be able... Can we get back to the point?"

"I'm not Doctorate obsessed!"

"Three is a perfectly normal number of higher degrees."

"It is when you aren't going to be able to use the first one because of child labour laws."

"The point? Oh yeah. Clueless geek or the truth?"

"Honestly? I doubt it."

"Stuck with the geek then. Joy."

"Maybe I can grow out of it."

"You love my random facts. Who won us that pub quiz in England?"

"Thank you."

"I don't know when I'm going to be able to make it out again."

"If I'm staying here I need to find a place to live. Furniture shopping! They must do furnished places?"

"Were you planning on visiting?"

"Well if you are a Studio flat or roommates isn't going to cut it then is it?"

"Like you've ever travelled anywhere with less than four pieces of luggage. Where am I supposed to put that in a studio?"

"Do me a favour? Look up some realtors and see what they've got."

"Because you like house hunting and I hate it."

"Why would I need a wine cellar? Look something big enough for guests, small enough to clean, safe enough to leave for days at a time and close to a direct public transport link to the office."

"Star."

"Got the employment contract I need to send to Charlie. Want it read through by a lawyer before I sign it."

"Nah, there won't be anything strange in it but my mother would kill me if she thought I'd signed something from the Government without getting it checked out by someone I trust first."

"Would you?"

"I don't know how. It's not exactly something you can just put in a letter. 'Hi, I'm not coming back, I'm staying in Washington."

"Tell her I'll be catching bad people to make the world safer. I can be good at this."

"Not really. This is different. It's helping lots of people who will be safer because of what I do. It's helping on a larger scale."

"Tell her I love her and will write every day."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to do some more calling round in a minute."

"Anyway, what was it you wanted? I'm just returning your call!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Apologies for the month between updates (so much for weekly). I don't particuarly like this chapter but needed to transition out of the academy if I was going to move it forward...


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